


On the back of the North Wind

by Banbury



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-28
Updated: 2008-07-28
Packaged: 2019-06-13 03:07:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15354864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Banbury/pseuds/Banbury
Summary: Sentinel listening to the world...





	On the back of the North Wind

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Elaine, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Artifact Storage Room 3](https://fanlore.org/wiki/Artifact_Storage_Room_3) and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Artifact Storage Room 3’s collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/artifactstorageroom3/profile).
> 
> **Author's notes:**
> 
> Thanks ainm for beta.
> 
> Written for TS_Secret_Santa, December'07. Prompt: miracle 

He laid on his back in the hammock in the middle of nowhere. Soft breeze brushed his bare chest. He stared at the sky wondering whether these stars are the same as at home, he was not very good at astronomy. Something small and wet dropped on his cheek – he touched it. Leaflet.

  
He longed to feel snow. Never ever thought that he will miss it and yet here he was – in the middle… He stopped this line of thought; there was no good in yearning for something unbelievable.

  
He closed his eyes and tried to disconnect with this world. Firstly, he ceased to hear the wind, fluttered leaves, the river far away. Then he stopped to pay attention to people’s breathing, movements in their sleep. Then he felt the other wind on his skin, cold, wet, oceanic fresh – wind from afar, from Home. The wind brought with it muffled sounds – dings, music spikes, distant voices. It seemed to him that he even could hear crunch of snow under somebody’s feet.

  
Several voices rose up in the song then subsided and then, only then he heard this voice – young, clear, rich… starlit – like that somebody inhaled all stars from above and they were twinkling in every word.

  
The Voice read a poem. He didn’t know it and caught only last stanza:  
  
*The woods are lovely, dark and deep,  
But I have promises to keep  
And miles to go before I sleep,  
And miles to go before I sleep.*  
  
Suddenly he felt it – snowflakes on his lashes, as unbelievable as a hope and yet as real as The Voice. That Voice promised to find him he just knew it. And he, in response, promised to go ahead, to keep going.

  
He slept and saw in his sleep North Star wrapped itself warm in North Wind, The Voice rocked to sleep in the hammock of Milky Way and promises were shining like beacon ahead.  



End file.
